


came home like a stone (and fell heavy into your arms)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [134]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Hair Braiding, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: “Lydia?”“Kira?” Dropping her keys and purse to the floor, she drops to sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh my God. Are you...”The wordsactually aliveare sitting on the very tip of her tongue, but Lydia can’t bring herself to say them. That would mean that she’d have to admit that Kira being dead was a possibility, and even a decade and a few dozen phantom phone calls from people already beyond the grave hasn’t prepared her for that.(or, ten years after Kira disappears into the desert with the skinwalkers, she comes back.She comes back to Lydia.)





	came home like a stone (and fell heavy into your arms)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aweekofsaturdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/gifts).



> written for the prompt "Kira/Lydia + things you said with too many miles between us." I'm also using this for the August 2017 Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, where the theme is 'another life.'
> 
> title from [I Will Wait](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGKfrgqWcv0) by Mumford & Sons.

When she first glances at the unknown number showing up on her phone’s screen, Lydia takes a moment to debate whether or not she wants to answer it. She’s already running five minutes late for a brunch date with one of her friends, and she’s sure that it’ll probably just be some automated call, someone doing a survey or a telemarketer trying to get her to sign up for a new credit card. 

She has more than enough of those already, thank you very much. 

But, as she slides her feet into her heels, _something_ in the back of her mind, some kind of impossible to define intuition that hasn’t let her down in the past, nudges her. With a slight chill coursing down her spine, she thumbs the slider to _accept_ and presses the phone to her ear as she looks around for her keys. 

“Hello?” she asks. For a long moment, whoever is on the other end of the line doesn’t say a word. But there’s too much background noise for it to be yet another automated call; there’s a crackling, like the wind whipping against the phone speaker, and traffic sounds, honking horns and the whoosh of tires against a road.

Even more disconcerting than all of that, Lydia can hear _breathing_ , which opens the possibility to this being an entirely different kind of call, which she (thankfully) hasn't experienced since first year of college. 

However, before she can open her mouth to unleash a tongue lashing, the breathing is interrupted by a quiet, tentative voice. 

“Lydia?”

Despite the years that have passed, there isn’t a second of uncertainty. Lydia knows immediately who she’s talking to. 

“Kira?” Dropping her keys and purse to the floor, she sits down on the edge of her bed. “Oh my God. Are you...” 

The words _actually alive_ are sitting on the very tip of her tongue, but she can’t bring herself to say them. That would mean that she’d have to admit that Kira being dead was a possibility, and even a decade and a few dozen phone calls from people already beyond the grave hasn’t prepared her for that.

“Yeah,” she replies. “It's really me. Is it okay that I called?” 

“Of course. Absolutely. How did you get my number?” 

“I called the operator first and got them to connect me to your mom. Good thing she still has a home phone, right?” 

“Right,” Lydia answers, the word leaving her mouth scarcely louder than a whisper. “She was thinking about getting rid of it, actually.” 

“I’m glad she didn’t. And I’m glad she believed that it was me calling and not some total stranger,” Kira continues with a nervous laugh that shoves Lydia right back to dozens of memories from high school. 

“Me too.” Frankly, Lydia can’t think of anything else that she’s more glad of. “Kira, where are you?” 

“Um.” There’s a rustling on the other end of the phone, followed by Kira calling out to someone. Lydia can’t hear the reply, and Kira comes back seconds later. “It isn’t really a town, just a gas station on the side of the highway. I can give you the address though?” 

“Give me one second.” Lydia rolls onto her stomach and stretches until she can grab the tablet sitting on her bedside table. Once she’s brought up the maps application, she asks Kira to give her the address.

There’s nothing around the gas station for literal miles in any direction, aside from side roads winding away from the highway. It’s an eight hour trip, one way, if she drives the speed limit the whole way and doesn’t run into any construction or traffic jams. 

She decides to leave immediately. 

“Will you be safe there for a few more hours?” she asks, tossing her tablet aside and grabbing her purse and keys from the floor. 

“I should be. No one’s bothered me so far.” 

“Good,” Lydia says, kicking her wedges off so that she can choose a pair of shoes better suited to driving. “Do you want me to call anyone else for you?” 

When Kira answers, after a long pause, she sounds so _tired_ that Lydia’s eyes well up. 

“Not yet,” she says softly. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” 

“That’s okay. We can tell them together, if you want. We’ll figure it out when I get down there, okay?” 

“Okay. Drive safely.” 

“I will. I-”

_Love you_ comes into her mouth automatically, like not a single day has passed since the last time they exchanged the words, but Lydia manages to bite them back just in time. 

They already have enough to figure out without bringing that aspect of their relationship into it. 

“I promise,” she says instead, stepping out of her apartment and locking the door. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

&. 

The road unfurls in front of her like a ribbon caught in the wind. She loses count of the number of small towns she passes through, each of them nearly identical to the last. She stops only once, four hours in, when the hunger pangs in her stomach grow so painful that it becomes difficult to focus on the road. Even then, she simply whizzes through the least busy drive-in she can find and ends up with a soggy burger, over-salted fries and a warm bottle of stale tasting water. 

But it’s worth only stopping just the once, even if the food is garbage. Seven hours and fifteen minutes after leaving her apartment, she pulls into the dusty parking lot of the service station, squinting her eyes against the sun’s harsh glare as it descends towards the horizon. Despite its location in the middle of nowhere, or maybe _due_ to its location, the parking lot is crowded with other vehicles, ranging from family sized sedans to tanker trucks. The actual building housing the station is bigger than she expected; through the plate glass windows marching across the front, she can see rows upon rows of aisles, containing presumably everything a weary traveler could need: snacks to eat with one hand, windshield wiper fluid, cheap sunglasses and trucker caps. 

Even though she’s starting to get hungry again, Lydia isn’t in the market for any of that. Instead, she slowly walks away from her car, casting her eyes around, looking for a face that she hasn’t forgotten a single feature of. 

She finds her out back. 

There’s a small rest area behind the building, dotted with picnic tables that look like they've seen better days and a playground structure more rusted metal than anything. Two of the tables are taken up by a large family gorging themselves on sandwiches that must have come from inside the service station, but on the one furthest away from the building, there’s someone small curled up on the bench, lying down on their side. 

Someone with a katana strapped to their back. 

Even though Lydia’s heart feels like it’s jumped into her throat, even though she wants nothing more than to race across the cracked tarmac and pull Kira into her arms, she forces herself to take it slow. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to them. 

Shoes clicking against the ground, she steps around the picnic table, so that she can face Kira head-on. While she spent nearly the entire trip trying to prepare herself for this moment, she still gasps and folds, dropping down to her knees so she’s at eye-level with Kira’s still prone frame. 

“Kira?” she whispers, fingers itching to reach out and brush the errant wisps of dark hair away from Kira’s face, a face that, upon first glance, doesn’t seem to have aged at all, like she stepped into the desert yesterday rather than a decade ago. Her body, however, is definitely different; Kira’s wearing a simple black tank top and, even at rest, her arms are laced with firm, well-defined muscle, alongside bruises and still healing cuts. 

Before Lydia can make note of any other differences, Kira’s eyes slowly flick open. 

Unlike the rest of her face, they’ve aged. They look like they belong to someone else, someone who’s lived years upon years and seen so _much_. 

Lydia wonders what really happened to Kira out in the desert, with the skinwalkers, what they put her through, what kind of training she had to tackle and complete in order to gain control. 

On some level, she isn’t sure if she wants to know. 

“Lydia,” Kira says, voice raspy with sleep as she swiftly sits up, katana case banging against the table. “You’re here.” 

“Sorry that I took so long,” Lydia apologizes, getting back to her feet as Kira stands up. Before she can say anything else, Kira firmly shakes her head. Her hair is far longer than the last time Lydia saw her, nearly waist-length, and she can hear it swishing against Kira’s back. 

“Don’t apologize,” she says, adjusting the strap of her katana holder over her chest. “I’m sorry _I_ took so long.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Lydia doesn’t get any warning before Kira throws herself at her, crashes into her chest like a car colliding with a wall. 

Lydia told herself that she wouldn’t cry, but the instant she feels Kira’s tears dripping onto her shoulders, her own start to fall. 

For what feels simultaneously like an eternity and a mere blip in time, they stay pressed together, soaking their clothing with tears, swaying back and forth. Lydia can feel more muscle striping Kira’s back on either side of her spine, but while that may be new, she smells the same, and when she pulls back eventually, the smile brightening her face is so familiar that it makes Lydia choke on a fresh wave of tears. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she murmurs, twirling her fingers through Kira’s hair, just above the base of her spine. 

“Me too,” Kira says, momentarily tightening her arms around Lydia’s waist until it’s almost painful. Abruptly, the sound of her rumbling stomach snaps through their moment like a breaking rubber band, and while Kira’s cheeks flush, Lydia immediately regrets not having the foresight to bring some kind of snack or even a bottle of water for Kira. 

“When did you eat last?” she asks, taking Kira’s hand automatically as they start walking back towards the parking lot. 

“Before I called you,” she answers. “The same person who gave me a few quarters for the payphone gave me a bag of chips too. We can just grab something in there, if you-”

“You deserve more than a sandwich that’s probably been sitting there for a week,” Lydia interjects. “There has to be an actual town somewhere between here and home with a restaurant and a hotel.” 

“A hotel?” Kira asks. Lydia nods. 

“Fourteen hours of driving in one day is a lot, even for me. And I think we could use the time. To catch up.” 

Kira smiles again and squeezes Lydia’s hand tightly. 

“Definitely.” 

&.

Once they’re back in the car, Lydia does a quick search on her phone to find the nearest place they can get food and somewhere to sleep. The town turns out to be forty-five minutes, back the way she came, but there’s a diner just off the highway that has good reviews, and there’s a motel just down the block that looks like it’ll be more than sufficient for one night. 

Lydia is used to staying in places that are a little more expensive, more decadent, but for tonight, she doesn’t care about extra perks, about complimentary bathrobes and free internet and room service. 

She just needs somewhere to be with Kira. 

Mere minutes after she turns back onto the road, Kira is asleep again. Her katana is stretched out across the back seat, and her head is resting against the window, bumping against the glass every time they go over a hump in the road. 

Lydia realizes that they’re going to have to stop somewhere else to get Kira a few things. As far as she can see, the katana is the only thing she has on her, aside from maybe a few quarters in her pockets. But she’s going to need a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, a hairbrush. 

They’ve just reached the outskirts of the town when an exit that solely leads to a massive big-box store appears, and Lydia merges across three lanes so that she can take it. 

Even once she stops in the parking lot, Kira doesn’t move. Her breathing is soft and deep, and Lydia can see her eyes moving behind her lids, flicking around in REM sleep, so she rummages through her purse until she finds a piece of paper she can leave a note on. 

She leaves the note in Kira’s lap, so that she’ll see it almost immediately if or when she wakes up. 

She doesn’t want Kira to think that she’s leaving her behind, even if only for a few minutes. 

The place is crowded, and by the time she gets out with a heaping bagful of clothes and toiletries, the sun has almost completely gone down, leaving only a strip of blazing orange right above the horizon. Kira stirs when she slides back into the driver’s seat; her eyes flutter open and she turns over so that she’s facing Lydia, knees pulled up towards her chest. 

“Everything okay?” she asks. 

“Fine,” Lydia says. This time, when her fingers itch to push Kira’s hair away from her face, she gives into the urge. “I bought you some clothes. Toothpaste. That kind of stuff.” 

“Thanks,” Kira murmurs. Before Lydia can pull her hand away, Kira twists her head and presses her lips to Lydia’s wrist. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” she replies, the ghost of Kira’s lips still lingering against her skin. “Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.” 

“That makes two of us,” Kira says, settling back into the seat. 

They don’t speak again until Lydia pulls into the diner’s parking lot and turns off the car. When she glances over, Kira is illuminated by the orange glow coming from a nearby streetlight, eyes glinting like flames, either a mere reflection or a glimpse at the fox living inside of her. 

“How long have I been gone?” she asks softly. 

Lydia doesn’t know how it didn’t come up before, but the undercurrent of sheer _dread_ in Kira’s voice makes her eyes sting with more tears. 

“Ten years,” she answers. “Ten years, two months and fifteen days, if you want to be specific.” 

“Oh.” Kira’s eyes close, and she momentarily presses her face into her palms, shoulders trembling. “I thought it was going to be worse. Way worse.” 

Ten years was bad enough. 

Lydia can’t imagine how many years Kira means by _way worse_. 

“We can talk about that later,” she says, reaching out for Kira’s hand again. “You should eat first.” Kira nods and, taking a deep breath, straightens her back. The trembling in her shoulders comes to a stop. 

“You’re right,” she says with a nod that looks to be directed more at herself than at Lydia. “I really hope they have pizza. Or pasta. French fries. I can’t remember the last time I ate a carb.” 

“Well,” Lydia says, quickly glancing at the exterior, which is very clearly going for a fifties kind of vibe, “I think you’re going to be in luck.” 

&.

They eat in relative silence, tucked into opposite sides of a window booth, quiet music wafting from speakers tucked into the corners of the room. There’s no pizza or pasta on the menu, but Kira ends up ordering a burger and fry combo that comes on a plate nearly the size of the trays they had in the Beacon Hills’ cafeteria. 

She eats every last bite, and when Lydia is too stuffed to finish the second half of her chicken wrap, Kira polishes that off too. 

“When was the last time you ate before today?” Lydia asks, just after Kira orders a strawberry milkshake for dessert. For a long time, Kira doesn’t answer; her gaze goes a little unfocused, and her mouth crinkles into a slight frown as she apparently goes searching through her memories. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she finally answers. “I... I don’t know if I ate at all while I was with the skinwalkers.” 

On some level, Lydia expects to hear the answer, but it still makes her sick to her stomach. 

“Well,” she says, hoping that the sour taste in her mouth doesn’t make itself known on her face, “we’re going to have to make up for that too.” 

&. 

It’s ten o’clock by the time they make it to the motel, which thankfully has vacancies. They’re able to drive right up to the door to their room, which is at the end of a long row of other rooms. While Kira carefully retrieves her katana from the back seat, Lydia grabs both her duffle and the overflowing plastic bag containing her purchases for Kira. 

The room itself is utilitarian, more function over fashion. There’s the typical dreary watercolor hanging on the wall above and between the two narrow beds, which are adorned in identical, hideous floral comforters, and the carpet is a dreary shade of tan, but it’s still far from the worst place Lydia has ever stayed in. 

(Nothing will ever rob the Motel Glen Capri of that illustrious title.)

Once she’s unpacked, Lydia quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face. After she’s done, Kira disappears into the bathroom for nearly half an hour, and it’s only the sound of the running shower that keeps Lydia from worrying about her. 

She’s exhausted, inside and out, but she doesn’t want to go to sleep, not before they get a chance to talk, really talk, even if it’s only for a few minutes. So she flicks on the small television resting on a table facing the beds and watches the news until Kira comes out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt that Lydia bought for her. Her damp hair is streaming down nearly to her hips, and when she sits down on the bed beside Lydia, the smell of citrus shampoo rises from it. 

(The bed is narrow enough that they have to sit leg to leg in order to fit, but the thought of them sleeping apart is so ridiculous that Lydia refuses to entertain it.) 

“Can you help me braid it?” she asks, handing Lydia her brush (also new). Lydia nods and turns the television off as Kira turns to sit with her legs dangling over the side of the bed. The hum of the television in the adjoining room comes faintly through the wall, but it’s quiet enough that Lydia can hear Kira breathing, hear the sound of her hair brushing against her shoulders when she sweeps it back behind her. 

Kira’s hair slips through her fingers like silk as she works, carefully brushing through it first. It’s been years since Lydia has done this to anyone but herself, but she falls back into it, lets her fingers move of their own accord once she starts to actually weave Kira’s hair together. 

“I didn’t think I’d make it out this quickly,” Kira says, her voice so quiet that Lydia momentarily mistakes it for someone speaking out in the parking lot. “I thought by the time I had control, by the time I was _good_ enough, you’d all be too old to remember me or... or you’d all be gone.” 

“You underestimate yourself,” Lydia says, swallowing around a lump in her throat. “You always have. But you’re a badass kitsune. Remember?” 

“I remember,” Kira replies, nodding slightly. “It’s strange. I remember high school. I remember _us_. But it’s like another life, one I saw in a movie or something. It... it doesn’t feel like _my_ life anymore. I don’t know. Time was weird with the skinwalkers. I’m not sure if it actually existed there.” 

Lydia pauses with her hands hovering midway down Kira’s back. She can’t even begin to understand how Kira must feel, how strange it must be to be propelled back into a world both utterly familiar and totally foreign. 

But she does know that Kira isn’t the only one who’s spent the last ten years wondering if the people she loved were dead. 

“Every time I felt a scream building in my throat,” she starts, sliding forward so that she can rest her cheek against Kira’s back, “every time someone called me, someone who was dead, I was afraid it would be you. I was afraid that I was never going to hear your voice again, not while you were alive, at least. Every body that I was led to, I thought it might be yours.” She goes back to braiding, fingers moving automatically while she shifts to brace her forehead against Kira’s shoulder blade. “I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.” 

Kira doesn’t move or speak again until Lydia finishes the braid, securing the loose bits at the bottom with a hair elastic from her wrist. When she’s done, Kira turns around and pulls her legs up into the bed, until she’s kneeling in front of Lydia. Her eyes are shiny with tears and vivid orange, and this time, Lydia knows that it’s no reflection from a streetlight. 

“I needed to get control,” Kira says, wiping at her cheek. “I know that. But I missed you so, so much. And I’m not leaving again.” 

I missed you too,” Lydia says, reaching out and curling her fingers around Kira’s hips. The words do the bare minimum to convey what feels like a whirlwind of incomprehensible emotion inside of her, but they’ll have to do for the time being, because Kira is leaning in to kiss her, both palms pressed against Lydia’s cheeks like she’s holding something infinitely precious. 

There’s still so much more that they have to talk about. Lydia hasn’t even begun to catch Kira up on all that has happened since she left, both in Beacon Hills and beyond and, at some point, they’ll have to broach the topic of telling Kira’s parents that she’s returned, not to mention the rest of the pack.

But all of that can wait. It’ll be Kira’s decision when they contact everyone else, and until then...

Well, Lydia thinks as she falls onto her back and opens her legs so that Kira can fit between them, they have ten years of lost time to make up for, and there’s no time like the present to start.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
